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What may come

Discussion in 'UO White Stag Inn' started by Merka'Cartel, Oct 2, 2004.

  1. Merka'Cartel

    Merka'Cartel Guest

    “Tis not as it may seem Mistress…” Zandria muttered, with her feeble attempt at hiding the worn shovel behind her back.

    Merka looked upon the girl and frowned. Their resources were not to be wasted and she was very puzzled by Zandria’s actions.

    “Then, pray tell, what have you done with all of the ore?” She waited, impatiently, as Zandria fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. “Well?”

    Zandria looked at her Mistress, knowing she was a kind soul but very demanding all the same. She was a paladin of virtue and in the Royal Britannian Guard…perhaps she had not heard of the news spreading like wildfire across the lands. Then again, she had been acting awfully strange in the past few days…after her run in with Ezorn. He was an evil man; she could just sense it about him. She shuddered, thinking about his darkly handsome looks and lowered her eyes to the ground, he was trouble all right.

    “Mistress Merka…” She started, finding her voice weak and thin sounding “Have you not heard the news?” She peeked up, reading the look upon Merka’s face.

    Merka started, wondering what she could have missed. It had seemed as though her days had been blended together, each event tumbling upon the other. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and reflect on the news she had heard earlier in the day from her son Azriekel. Her mind clouded again, the information just out of her grasp. A frown traced upon her countenance and she sat back heavily in a small wooden chair.

    Zandria noticed the confusion on Merka’s face, at once concerned for her Mistress. She shuffled across the cobblestone floor and fetched a glass of cool water for her. She wondered what could have gotten into her. It was unlike her to be so scatterbrained, she was usually so very on top of situations.

    Zandria returned with the water, handing it to Merka and stepping back to take a good look at her. She was a hard woman, not unattractive but she wore the scars of battle and lacked the vanity of most women to hide them. Her armor was pristine, her weapons sharp and always ready, of that she personally made certain. But there was something wrong with her, her pallor was off, she was slightly pale and almost looked as though she had seen a ghost. Her eyes were lackluster, the normal gleam of readiness faded. While her armor shown like diamonds, her body seemed to shrink within it.

    “Tell me Zandria…tell me what I have missed” Merka finally spoke after taking long draws upon the goblet of water; she sounded defeated and almost forlorn.

    Zandria sat upon a stool opposite Merka, folding her work roughened hands in her lap, and told her of the events of last eve. She explained then why she was taking all of her ore to the specified drop points to help with the efforts and had thought that Merka would approve and encourage her as she had in the past.

    “Nearly 3000 ore Mistress, I have mined endlessly to help the cause…” Zandria paused “I thought you would approve”

    Merka stared at her, listening with feigned interest, her mind elsewhere, her thoughts scattering into the wind as quickly as they came. She focused in on the last thing Zandria said, her hands tensing upon the goblet and she rose swiftly to glare down upon a now trembling Zandria.

    “You dare waste our resources on a dying land?” She bellowed, her face growing a deep crimson with her anger “How dare you even presume to think for me girl!” She roared, tossing the finely crafted goblet across the shop. It struck the wall with such force that the metal crumpled and it clanged loudly to the floor.

    She towered over Zandria, her rage building in giant waves that washed over her. She stared hard at the girl, a surge of controlling power rose within her and she raised her hand to her. Zandria cowered, covering her head against the coming blow, whimpering and pleading with her Mistress.

    “Mother!” A loud voice boomed from the doorway.

    Merka turned, her gauntleted hand suspended in the air above Zandria’s head. A look of pure horror crossing her features as the dawning realization of what she was about to do crashed into her. It was suddenly all to much for her and as she stood staring at her son who stood looking at her with confusion and repulsion, she felt a wave of nausea rise and the world grow black.
  2. Merka'Cartel

    Merka'Cartel Guest

    Ezorn slid silently back into the corner, hidden by the deep shadows, and watched Merka. He saw her reactions, reveled in her breakdown and smiled, lips curling up slightly to reveal even white teeth. She would be under his control soon, and he would have what he wished.

    He had begun to break her down slowly, though finding her weak points had proved to be most difficult. She had an amazing constitution and her resolve was solid, she lived and breathed each virtue as if swaying would cause her to crumble. And that knowledge alone would be her undoing.

    The virtues, as they were, spoke of truth, love and courage. In the absence of those three principles a new virtue was borne, one he knew, she would never subscribe to. Chaos, the root of all that is evil, was indeed in the path of virtues. He knew she would begrudgingly admit to its existence, but her sensibilities would not allow her follow that one dark path. It was up to him to persuade her to do just that.

    Ezorn watched her hand hover over the head of her slave, his smile slipping easily into a malicious grin of delight. “Do it…”He whispered, his voice traveling in echo’s.
    His grin twisted further, the demon within slipping from its tentative place beneath his human skin; eyes flashed and glimmered a dark gold then clouded with bloodlust. He urged her again silently, willing her hand to come down upon the trembling girl beneath her, pleased at the look of hate and reproach in her face.

    The smaller girl shook in fear, muttering pleas of release, Ezorn could taste her dread and relished it. Though he would prefer to be the source of such malcontent, this elixir would have to suffice for now. He breathed in deeply the mingled smells of anger and panic, savoring its pungent aroma. “Do it…” he whispered again.

    “Mother!” A loud voice boomed from the doorway.

    Ezorn turned is gaze to the door. Her son stood there, looking most repulsed, which pleased him greatly. Let the chaos reign, he thought gleefully. He glanced back to Merka and watched as confusion took over her, and she collapsed in a heap upon the cobblestone floor. Both slave and son rushed to her aid and Ezorn cursed silently in his hidden corner of the room.

    ”Damn you…” he muttered and swiftly winked from sight.
  3. Merka'Cartel

    Merka'Cartel Guest

    Azreikel leaned cautiously over the prone form of his mother upon the fine down filled bed. Her breathing had become so shallow that is one was not bending close to listen they would not hear the fine shuddering gasp of breath escaping her lips. He patted her forehead with a cool damp rag and glanced over at her attendant Zandria. She sat in a chair at the corner of the bed, her hands worrying upon her lap, her back straight and rigid. She caught his glance and her brow drew together to form deep ridges in her otherwise smooth skin.

    “She looks so pale M’Lord” she whispered, softly clucking her tongue in worry.

    He nodded to her and looked back upon his mother. Her pallor was beyond pale, he thought, it was almost luminescent. Her lips stood out as a riot of rosey color against the white of her skin. Though she stayed in this state of repose, seeming to be ill yet not, her skin was cool and dry. He reached to pat her head with the damp cloth again, as she had done to him as a child when he lay sick. Then he paused and noticed two small pink pin prick spots upon her neck. A gasp, much harsher than he had intended, escaped his pursed lips. He rose then, quickly dashing to Zandria and tugging her from her vigil.

    “We must leave her at once.” He whispered hoarsely.

    Zandria sputtered and looked at him in horror.

    “M’Lord…Our Lady needs us!” her voice rose “We can’t leave her…”

    “She has the bite of the beast” Azriekel interrupted.

    Zandria turned to look upon her Mistress, color slipping from her face, her pouting lips trembling now in fear and angst. He pulled upon her anew and tugged her through the door. He slipped the padlock upon it, glancing once more at the door.

    The pair slipped through the giant house silently, each afraid to speak of the plight that had befallen their Mistress and Mother. Settling Zandria safely in her shop beneath the house and warning her to keep the doors shut at all cost, Azriekel escaped into the night in search of help.

    Ezorn stepped from the shadows of the now vacant room. A smile traced his lips and he walked over to the large bed.

    “I will have the axe dear one” he cooed, running a hand through Merka’s long white locks “Oh, the Lord shall be pleased”